


my heart got caught on your sleeve

by RowboatCop



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Supportive Coulson, canon (shitty) Daisy/Lincoln, canon compliant longing, even if he doesn't know it, even when he's trying lincoln is a classist douchewaffle, phil coulson has a crush on daisy, season 3 canon with happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 13:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6522259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/pseuds/RowboatCop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Lincoln takes a liking to Coulson, and Coulson finds himself giving advice about how to be less of a douchewaffle. Because Phil Coulson isn't *jealous,* he just doesn't know exactly what he is. </p>
<p>Canon-compliant Daisy/Coulson season 3 semi-angst with longing (and a shippy ending).</p>
            </blockquote>





	my heart got caught on your sleeve

**Author's Note:**

> Season 3 canon-compliant (until it isn't anymore), first chapter beginning post-Watchdogs.

It’s been half an hour of the two of them leaning back against the edge of his desk, searching through ATCU files on the big screen in hopes of landing on what Malick might have stolen, when he sees Daisy drop her head and rub the back of her neck.

She looks tense, and he wonders when she last time she took a real break was.

Not that he’s one to bother people about taking adequate breaks, adequate vacation, adequate time for their own mental health.

_He’s_ never been good at it.

He’s also never been the kind of leader that gets in anyone’s face or tells somewhat what to do with their personal lives. But it’s been almost two years, now; two years of being hunted, of operating in the dark, of working constantly with no overnights in hotels while they fuel up, no forced shore leave.

(It’s one of the things about having a base. It’s nice to have a _home_ , he wouldn’t trade it for anything, but it means there’s no need for those hotel stops, no need for shore leave just to get them out of the air for a day or two. It means that too often, they go nonstop, one crisis leading to the next.)

But it’s been a rough two years, and there’s nothing like losing two good agents to make you think about keeping the ones you have.

He could have worked things out for Bobbi and Hunter. It would have been difficult, but it was doable, and on some level he knows that their decision had as much to do with being tired, being _done_ , as it did with necessity.

Mack’s immediate need for a some leave — and his annoyance with being called in — only drives the point home further that he needs to consider this more deeply.

Especially regarding Daisy.

For Daisy to burn out would be…

He swallows, tries not to think on it too long. He’s a risk assessor, that’s what he does, he sizes up situations. (Like, he always knew there was a risk that Hunter would be a catalyst for Bobbi quitting one day — granted, though, he had hoped it would be further in the future.)

Thinking about Daisy leaving is too hard, though.

He stops making any pretense of work, and just looks over at her, watching as she slips her jacket off and rolls her shoulders backwards. There’s some urge in the back of his head to press his fingers against her neck, to do something to help her, to relax.

He shakes it off.

“It’s been a long night,” he offers, maybe wanting to give her the chance to vent, to help in another way.

“Yeah. I could have gone a really long time without seeing Mack hurt again.”

“I’m sorry. I know that’s hard.”

It’s hard for him, but it’s harder when it’s your partner, when it’s someone you’re supposed to protect, when it’s someone you feel that sense of duty towards.

She nods.

“I didn’t get to apologize to him before they took him away, either.”

“Apologize for what?” Coulson frowns into the question.

“I pulled the IP addresses of the Watchdogs, and he and Fitz were...not in support of that.”

“And that means you need to apologize?”

“Well, if I hadn’t done it, if I hadn’t tracked that guy down, he wouldn’t have been targeted.”

“Hey.” He’s perhaps too forceful with it, but it makes her look over and meet his eyes, makes her see how serious he is when he says: “That’s not your fault. You did the right thing.”

“We walked into a trap, practically.”

“You were trying to stop another possible bombing. You were trying to save people’s lives. Mack knows that, Daisy.”

She nods, maybe like she doesn’t fully believe him.

“I enjoyed it,” she tells him, like it’s a confession, and then looks down into her lap. “A lot.”

“Interrogating the Watchdog?”

“Yeah. The one I stopped, he wrote a comment…” She licks her lips, a look of revulsion and hatred, and then shakes her head.

“Bad?”

“I’ve seen so many guys like him, you know? There were a lot of good people in the Rising Tide, but…”

She trails off, and Coulson leans slightly toward her, like he can _will_ her to keep talking.

“Yeah?”

“Just, bullies, you know? I used to dream about being able to take out someone who made threats like that. And now…”

“You can.”

“You don’t think it’s wrong? What I did?”

“I wish I could have seen it,” he tells her, trying not to smile too wide. But it's so easy to imagine her standing up for herself and her people, making bad men who want to kill her quake in their boots, and of course that makes him smile.

“Yeah?” She looks over at him, sort of relieved, like she had worried he would judge her, too. “You don’t think it was too _Gestapo_?”

He grimaces at that.

“Between _you_ and the guy who wanted to hunt down and kill an Inhuman just because they’re different?”

It makes her smile, like she’s trying to bite it back and then lets it out.

“Thanks,” she grins widely at him as she says it, but his eyebrows draw together because he doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve any thanks, and Daisy shakes her head. “For having my back. For not questioning me.”

“I trust your judgment,” he tells her, fully honest.

“Is that why you gave Lincoln a second chance tonight?”

“Partly,” he agrees. “He didn’t do so great on his assessments, but I wanted to see for myself if he could commit.”

“Just because I believe in him?”

As though she hasn't proven time and again that her judgment is worth trusting, as though he's doing her some kind of a favor. 

“If you think he should be here, then I want to give him that chance.”

“He said you told him to kill Blake.”

Coulson rolls his eyes.

“If he had been paying attention instead of struggling to control himself, he would have noticed that that wasn’t a real person.”

Daisy laughs.

“But he did okay?”

“Yeah,” he smiles at her. “He did okay.”

“Lincoln was really scared of you,” Daisy tells him, grinning like this is unbelievable, and Coulson forces a frown.

“Hey, I’m scary.”

She laughs, looking _lighter_ , happier than he’s seen her in a long time. And he swears there was a time when they were like this — like laughing and smiling and being _light_ — but he can’t remember when it was.

“Sure you are.”

“I am! Just because you were never intimidated by anyone —”

“I was totally intimidated by May,” she reminds him. “And Simmons and Fitz were sort of intimidating with all their science talk, and even —”

She cuts herself off with a frown, and there’s a dark path here they can go down, but Coulson decides he’s not up for it tonight. Not the first night he’s seen her laugh in forever.

“So I was the only one you weren’t scared of?”

It takes her a minute to smile at him, to rejoin him in the moment, but she does.

“You were clearly a big softy.”

“Was I?”

“Handing out second chances. Bringing me on board even when you probably shouldn’t have. I trusted you right away.”

And it’s true to a point, though he knows very well that she had moments where she questioned him.

(He knows because he remembers — will always remember, he suspects — her face as she asked him if he knew that there was no extraction plan.)

“I trusted you, too,” he offers, and he doesn’t say it, but he trusted her in a way he’s been hesitant to trust her boyfriend. The fact is that he’s not been thrilled by the way Campbell handled himself in the past months, and all that doesn’t just vanish because they had one good night, even if it was a good start.

It’s like he doesn’t have to say it, though; Daisy smiles at him anyways, this look of understanding in her eyes.

“Thank you for making him feel welcome, Coulson. It means a lot to him and to me.”

“Mr. Campbell —” Daisy raises an eyebrow at him, and Coulson swallows. “ _Lincoln_ ,” he corrects himself, returning her small smile, “will do fine.”

Like he’s been summoned by the speaking of his name, Mr. Campbell — _Lincoln_ — shows up at the door, that slightly nervous expression on his face. He looks more comfortable than he has, though, and Coulson smiles at him, trying to be welcoming even though he would really prefer to have Daisy to himself.

Daisy who is smiling for the first time in forever.

“Come in,” Coulson welcomes him anyways, and he’s sure he’s projecting it when Daisy frowns slightly at Lincoln — like maybe she’d rather keep sitting here, alone with him in his office, like maybe it’s not just him who was enjoying the rare moment.

He shakes his head, not even sure where the thought came from.

“I heard you terrorized some of those Watchdog guys,” Lincoln says to her by way of greeting, and Coulson guesses that the two of them had talked about his night without getting to any details about hers.

“Terrorizing terrorists,” Daisy mocks the idea. “Yeah, poor guys forced to come face to face with one of the people they’re fantasizing about capturing and killing. How awful for them.”

Daisy rolls her eyes, and Coulson can’t quite hold back a smile as he looks over at her, watching from the corner of his eye as Campbell stands in front of the both of them. Coulson likes the feel of it, of the two of them at his desk with a subordinate before them, probably more than he should.

“I’m the leader, and I made a decision.”

“But breaking windows?” Campbell frowns and Daisy scowls at him. “Intimidation tactics?”

“You were talking to Fitz, weren’t you?”

“He just made it sound like —”

“I needed information, and I got it.”

“And you also confirmed every bad thing they think about Inhumans!”

“Oh, right, I forgot. When you approach racist men nicely, they _totally_ listen to you and realize they were wrong.”

“I’m just saying —”

“I thought if anyone would understand where I’m coming from on this, it would be _you_.”

There’s a long pause, and Coulson looks down at his lap, trying not to feel the tension in the room. (Trying not to remember Daisy’s _gratitude_ at his support of her.) This isn’t an issue where he wants to step in, whether it’s in order to affirm her leadership or to avoid touching on the personal tension between a couple, but he wishes Campbell would shut his mouth.

(It would be easier to like him if he shut his mouth.)

“I just think —”

“You know what? I don’t really care what you think.” Daisy pushes herself off the desk and walks out of the room, but pauses at the door. “Thank you for listening, Coulson.”

He nods once at her, looking past Campbell’s pouting form as she disappears.

“Goodnight,” he calls after her, when she’s too far away to hear it, and then silence falls in the room.

“Come on,” Campbell jumps in, “you can’t agree with what she did.”

“I trust Daisy,” Coulson tells him, narrowing his eyes at him because it shouldn’t even need saying. “She’s my team leader, and I support her decisions.”

Campbell frowns and drops into one of the chairs at Coulson’s desk, so that Coulson is looking slightly down at him from his seat leaning on the desktop.

“I feel like she and I are never on the same page,” Campbell tells him, like a confession, and Coulson has to hold back a grimace because he doesn’t want to be a sympathetic ear for _anyone’s_ problems with Daisy.

“That’s a problem,” Coulson tells him, stating the obvious instead of offering any advice or taking any side, giving no indication that Campbell should continue.

Of course he does anyways.

“I just don’t know how to connect with her. We’ve had such different lives.”

Coulson swallows.

“I’d have thought you had a lot in common.”

“Her gift...it comes so easily for her. Even that’s a difference between us,” Campbell shakes his head. “She doesn’t understand how hard it’s been for me.”

Coulson’s eyebrows draw together, and he can’t hold back a frown.

“You’re suggesting that the reason you’re on different pages is because _she_ can’t appreciate how hard _your_ life has been?”

“Things are just so much easier for her.”

“Skye —” Coulson swallows and draws in a breath, tries to calm himself. “ _Daisy_ was homeless when I met her. You would do well to understand how much she’s come through.”

“She was homeless?”

“She had been living out of her van for… I don’t know how long, actually.”

“I didn’t know that.” Campbell frowns. “She doesn’t talk about herself very much.”

“No,” Coulson agrees. “She doesn’t.”

It’s part of why he’d have liked it if Campbell had stayed out tonight, if he had gotten to keep talking to her when she was light and smiling and talking about herself.

“So how do I get her to open up?”

“Be supportive?” Coulson shrugs. “Daisy opens up in her own time.”

“Thanks,” Campbell tells him, rising from his chair. “I really… I think I probably owe her an apology.”

Coulson nods, actually a little relieved because at least it means that Daisy won’t be the one going to _him_ with an apology.

“Good night,” he nods at Campbell as he walks to the door, and he looks back with a friendly smile.

“Night, sir.”

Once he’s alone, once the office feels still around him, he looks down to where Daisy’s jacket lies beside him on his desk. He can’t quite hold back the desire to touch it, to run his right hand down the leather arm, sort of baffled by his own misplaced sentimentality.

He frowns at himself and picks it up, folding it in half before he drapes it over one of the chairs and goes to bed, taking the long route around the base to avoid getting too close to Daisy’s bedroom.


End file.
